


Can't Hide Anything From You

by Niightmoves



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Cockblock Sam, Flirting, M/M, Male Homosexuality, PRE WINCEST, Unrequited Love, Wincest - Freeform, takes place sometime in Season 7
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-15
Updated: 2013-06-15
Packaged: 2017-12-15 01:06:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/843527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Niightmoves/pseuds/Niightmoves
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean isn't gay, so why does it seem Sam keeps bringing it up? When a handsome stranger appears, Dean might have to face some truths about himself. Mentions of past wincest.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Can't Hide Anything From You

Can’t Hide Anything From You

 

Dean lay there, turning his head away from that one, bright white strip of sunshine that landed directly across his eyes. He was still, feeling the quiet and peace of the moment when there was nothing but him and his breath; before the press of the _world_ came crushing down and it all started up again, like a merry go round , on and on without stopping, a never ending meatgrinder.

He looked at Sam, sleeping soft and relaxed, next to him.  Dean got up quietly, headed to the bathroom for what they jokingly referred to as “ a shit, shower and shave”.  When he came out, Sam was fully dressed, sipping on bottled water. They didn’t look at each other.

“Shower? Or you gonna make me sit in your reek all day?”

“Yeah, whatever. Fuck-“  Sam rummaged in his duffle for his shaving kit and  closed the door behind him.

…

Standing in line at Starbucks, Dean knew he had at least 30 minutes before Sam was finished. Not that he couldn’t get ready in two, but on their off-days, he prefered to linger in there with all that free hot water.

He gave his order to the barista and stood back to wait;  people-watching the steady stream of customers in and out of the place. Same people, every time, he thought with some amusement and a little bit of disgust. Or maybe it was envy. People  going about their lives.  Blissfully unaware of the real world around them;  just going to work, making babies, spending money and bitching about mundane shit like how high to mow the lawn.  Standing there in the Starbuck’s, he felt like an observer of the  human race, not one of it.

“Excuse me-“ 

He turned to see a guy standing to his right. Tall and good looking; smiling at Dean tentatively.

“Yeah, uh- Mike, isn’t it?” Dean felt heat rise in his cheeks; tried to keep his face relaxed; mouth soft.

“Yeah, and, uh, Dean, right?” Although it wasn’t really a question. Just a reestablishing of the fact they knew each other.  “Great minds think alike, huh?” He vaguely gestured around at the room.

Dean gave a curt nod ,”Yeah,” and turned back to face the barista, and where the hell was his order?

“I really enjoyed meeting you last night. McGuire’s can be such a meat market, you know? “ He was leaning into Dean’s personal space. Dean could see the tiny lashes at the corners of his eyes. He shuffled his feet and leaned back, making room between them. “Oh god, tell me you remember me, um, ‘cause you were pretty drunk-“

Shit, yes, he remembered him. Good looking guy like that comes onto you, you’re gonna remember it, whether you play on that team or not.

“Yeah, I ‘member – oh, hey, that’s me—“ Dean excused himself to  grab his coffees, but found himself blocked  at the door.

“So, Dean,” Mike smiled at him, warm and friendly, “I’m gonna be out tonight. Want to come with? Maybe you can ditch that wingman of yours; who’s terrible at it, by the way-“

Dean found himself staring at Mike’s lips,and to his mortification, licking his own lip. Jesus, he didn’t see that, Dean hoped, but of course the other man did, smiling even wider.

He tried for casual nonchalance.

“Yeah, I’m not really sure what I’m doing tonight. Probably go out, I don’t know. Maybe. Uh, yeah.”

Mike chuckled at that. Reached up and gave Dean’s bicep a squeeze.

“ You’re cute.” He went on before Dean could cut him off. “I’ll be at McGuire’s tonight. Come if you want to. We can play some pool, have a couple drinks. “

Dean mumbled something incoherent as Mike said his goodbyes.

...

Back at the motel, Dean went to the rickety table and put down the coffees. Sam was already dressed and putting on his socks.

“Hey thanks for the coffee run.”  Dean handed him the cup.

“Never guess who I ran into at Starbucks” He took a sip of his coffee , letting the words hang there a few seconds.”Dude from last night. Mike.”

Sam was slipping on his boots. “Fuck. The one you were flirting with?” He grabbed the laces and tied them, obviously already pissy.

“Flirting? Hell no, I wasn’t-“

 Sam gave a bitchy chuckle. “Right.”

“Uh uh. You know I don’t swing that way.”

“Dean, he had his hands all over you. You weren’t exactly fighting him off-“ he stood up and paced to the other side of the room, glaring at Dean.

“I’m not fucking gay, dude. You know that.”

“Yeah, tell yourself that if it makes you sleep better. I know what I saw, Dean. Another couple minutes and he would have had his tongue down your throat.’

“Fuck you, asshole. I’m going out to get something to eat. Coming or not?” Was out the door without a backward glance.

Sam grabbed his coat and followed.

 …

“You know, I really don’t get you sometimes.” Dean said between bites.

Sam looked up, fork full of pancakes halfway to his mouth, a question in his eyes.

“You’re such a goddamned hypocrite, Sam,” The tone calm and even.

“I’m a hypocrite. What the hell are you talking about?”

“ You’re always going on and on about how we’re supposed to not judge;  accept people as they are” He lowered his voice to a whisper, “ treating fucking _monsters_ like people cause they didn’t have a choice being what they are-“

Sam broke in, ”Yeah, because sometimes, that ‘s the right thing to do-“

“And yet,” he paused briefly as he ate the last bite of egg and pointed the fork at Sam,”- you’re a homophobe, or gay hater, or whatever.”

Sam sputtered, wordless for a second.

“The fuck? I have nothing against gay people, Dean. You of all people should know that.  This isn’t about me anyway, it’s about _you_. You wanna talk about who’s the hypocrite? Fine, because I think you need to look in the mirror.” He grabbed his coffee cup too roughly, sloshing it over the rim.

“If I was gay, _which I’m not_ , you think you wouldn’t be so judgemental. But you are. So- “ he gave a shrug of his shoulders, “Hypocrite.”

Sam let out his breath in a whoosh.  He rubbed his hand over his mouth, glancing away, then back again.

“This is about that guy last night, isn’t it? Because I cock-blocked you-“

“What? No!- “

Sam glared at Dean. Leaning forward, he growled accusingly. “It is. I’m not stupid, Dean. If that’s what you want,  to hook up with some dude at a bar, be my guest. Just fucking admit that’s what you want. “

“No, goddamn it. I’m not- why the fuck are you always trying to get me to say I’m gay? I’m gonna say this one last time. I. Am. Not. Gay.”

He must have said it louder than he thought because the diner was suddenly quiet and their waitress was frozen in place in midstep, coffee pot in her hand, wondering whether to pour or retreat. Dean fixed her with a glare that said, back off if you know what’s good for you. Then, of course, he had to wave her back over and ask for the check.

“Okay, okay. You’re not gay. I’m not trying to get you to-“

“Forget it. “

“Dean-“

“Willya just shut the fuck up already?”

They retreated into silence while waiting to sign the credit card receipt.

…

After a day of movies and beer in the motel room, where nothing was said between them, Sam finally spoke.

“You wanna go out. Have a couple beers?” It was a peace offering, a meeting on neutral ground.

Dean considered. “Yeah. Maybe back to that place we went last night.”

Sam smirked. “Looking for your hookup?” 

“The fuck, Sam.  What is your problem?”

Sam looked away, “Sorry. That was-“ He turned back to Dean, resignation in his eyes ,”Let’s go. It’s fine.”

…

McGuire’s was filled with the Saturday night crowd by the time they arrived, and they managed to find a couple of open places on the bar. Dean sipped on his whiskey, knowing it probably wasn’t a good idea.  Beer before liquor, never sicker, that was how the saying went. He didn’t care, frankly.  Wanted a good buzz, maybe even a full on drunk. ~~~~

Two quick drinks in, Dean felt that familiar warmth, making him loose and relaxed. He looked at Sam, who was watching the crowd from his barstool. The dim lighting of the place threw shadows onto Sam’s face and Dean noticed a little distressingly a few crinkles at the corner of his eyes and ohdamn, what the fuck has this job done to us to make his beautiful little brother look so weary. Sam must have felt Dean’s eyes on him because he turned and suddenly smiled, so bright and sweet, like when he was 15 and thought Dean hung the moon.

“What?”  His brows tilted up, along with the corners of his mouth.

“Aw, nothing.  Just glad to see you having a good time.” Dean drained his glass, motioning to the bartender  for another round.

They looked for a few seconds at each other, smiling and open, and Dean wondered why it was so hard to keep things like this between them. Seemed lately they were always fighting, or sniping at each other. But this felt good; like it should be more often; like it should be, always. Sam tilted his head, leaned forward. He looked down and back up, and something there in his eyes . Dean didn’t know what it was. Then suddenly it hit him, making him sit back a little. _That look_. Like when they were kids-, teenagers full of hormones who spent every spare minute of privacy talking about tits and ass, watching pornos on a cheap motel TV and getting their rocks off.

Jesus, he hadn’t seen that look in a long time. Tried to put those years out of his head; when everything was/is/would be Sammy and everything for Sammy. When he’d look at his brother and feel himself overcome with it. Wanting Sammy – to touch, to hold on to. They couldn’t keep their hands off each other back then, even if it never went beyond kissing, groping and a few hand jobs. Every touch a burn that was so sweet, Dean felt like he’d never get enough.

 But that all ended when Sam left. Dean let it go; knew Sam wanted ‘normal’, not the fucked up thing they had that was only  getting more intense with time. Dean swore he’d give it to him, his chance at normal, whatever that was, and no matter how much it hurt, he never laid a finger on him again.

All at once, Sam’s eyes darkened and his brows knit together, and Dean felt a hand on his shoulder and a voice close to his ear.

“Hey, so glad to see you could make it.” Mike squeezed his shoulder and pressed closer. “This place is packed. No seats left.”  Dean glanced at Sam, seeing wariness in his eyes.

Mike smiled at Dean and thrust out his hand toward Sam. “Good to see you again- I’m Mike.”

Sam shook his hand, “Sam.” Not unpleasant, but curt. Dean could feel the tension radiating off Sam as he stood. “Hey, I’m going to hit the restroom and shoot some pool.”

“I don’t think your friend likes me.” Mike said with a smile as he took the empty stool.

“Nah, that’s just Sam. He’s alright.” Dean quirked up his mouth and sipped his drink. He knew he was drunk because he was having a hard time not looking at Mike and didn’t feel even a little self conscious about it.

Mike was relaxed and funny and told some jokes that even Dean hadn’t heard and had him leaning back and laughing loud and openly. They went down their lists of likes and dislikes; Dean loving that someone agreed with him that Corvettes were a goddamn pussy car, and Mike good naturedly arguing that, no, boston cream pie was not a pie and yes, it was the best dessert ever. He was having a great time, he realized.  Mike was easy to talk to and Dean found himself blushing when Mike reached up and brushed the back of a knuckle across his jawline. Am I flirting, he wondered.  He saw the way Mike looked into his eyes, intense and smoldering one minute, joking and casual the next.  When Mike put his hand on Dean’s leg a minute later, he didn’t move away.

Sam suddenly appeared at his elbow.

“Dean.  I’m getting tired. You ready to go?” He was talking to Dean, but his eyes were locked on Mike’s. Challenging.

Mike just lifted his drink to his lips, talking around the rim of the glass, his eyes on Sam, “Dean?  That what you want to do?”

Dean looked from one man to the other, feeling like the bone in a tug of war between two alpha males. He rolled his eyes and sighed loudly. “Sammy…”

He looked up at Sam, so fucking tall that he needed to crane his head back, despite being on a barstool.  That kid who used to look up to him was all grown up, no longer willing to believe Dean was infallible; seeing through Dean’s bravado; calling him out on his bullshit when he needed to. Willing to accept him as he was, feet of clay, and all. He rose to his feet.

“Hey, Mike, I really enjoyed it, but I gotta go.” He said kindly, shrugged on his jacket.

Mike looked unhappy, but resigned. “Sure, Dean. I hope you call me next time you’re in town. We can get together-“

“Well, that’s really nice of you, but me and Sam are leaving tomorrow, so – y’know.” He let the implication lie. There was no sense in leading the guy on.

With a shake and a backslap, they said goodbye, and Dean followed Sam out to the car.

…

When he came out of the bathroom, Sam was sitting on the bed, obviously upset. Dean leaned against the door frame.

“Hey, Dean. Look. I’m sorry. I was being a real asshole back there.”

“S’alright, Sammy.” Maybe it was the alcohol or something, but he felt a little sad and nostalgic.

“No, man. You were right. I was being a hypocrite. You have the right to live your life however you want, and I shouldn’t-“

“Sam, it’s okay.” He went to the other bed and lay down, pulling the covers up, turning off the light next to his bed.

Sam switched off his light and got into bed. They lay in companiable silence.

“Dean?”

“Yeah?”

“I know you weren’t ready to leave. Why did you, anyway?”

The question hung there in the dark, unanswered so long, that Sam felt himself nodding off.

“I guess I just figured there was no sense starting something I didn’t know I if I could finish.” Sam heard his quiet sigh in the stillness.

 “Besides,” he whispered,”got all I need already.”

…

 

 


End file.
